


Protection Like a Wheel

by samalander



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom Sam Wilson, Drugs, F/M, Face-Sitting, Feelings, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, PWP, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Restraints, Riding, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Sub Steve Rogers, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Watching, holy crap this is dirty, tied-up steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3806149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/pseuds/samalander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve misses the sensation of being overpowered in bed, so he and Sam ask Natasha to help him find it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protection Like a Wheel

**Author's Note:**

> _It will change in time_  
>  _We'll feel more alive_  
>  _But protection's like a wheel_  
>  _And the way you sometimes feel_  
>  _Can make you think that you might even be the worst person you'll ever meet_  
>  _But it's alright, we got each other._ \- Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, [Milwaukee](https://vimeo.com/34411362)
> 
> With thanks, as always, to enigma731 for the beta, and to Snows and Ruby and Arch and Sansets for putting up with getting slivers in their inboxes as I went along, and to whoever it was on tumblr who thought this was a good idea.

"So, about poisons."

Natasha looks up from the book she's been reading for the last few hours, tucked into an armchair in the library of the Tower. Steve had joined her a while ago, his own book in hand, but he's been restless, disinterested, and she's been waiting for him to say his piece so she can get back to relaxing.

"Not usually your style," she says, eyeing him carefully.

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck with a kind of aw-shucks charm that she finds adorable in the weirdest way. "No," he agrees. "But. But Clint tells me you once paralyzed him for a week."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "He's still talking about that?"

The devilish grin on Steve's face is even more endearing than his faux-humble act. "Yeah. But--"

"But?"

Steve bites his lip, his teeth worrying the skin ever so slightly. Natasha sits back, content to let him stew until he’s ready to answer. She's comfortable with silence; his hangups are his problem. 

"I want that," he blurts out, when it seems like a year has passed with him fretting and looking at everything but her.

"You want that," Natasha echoes, just to make sure she's not going insane. "You want to be paralyzed for a week?"

"Yes," Steve says, nodding. "Well, no. Not a week. But-- but maybe a few hours?"

Natasha closes her book and leans forward, meeting his eyes. "And why, pray tell, would you want that?"

* * *

Steve has great memories of sex before the war. Great memories of partners who were bigger than him, stronger than him, who could toss him around and fuck him hard. 

He has memories of being helpless, being bound, being _someone's_. And he's still someone's. He's Sam's, most of the time, but sometimes he's also the temporary partner of a Random Person They Found Who They Want to Fuck.

And there's nothing wrong with any of that. But Steve misses letting go. He misses being overpowered. These days, no matter how they arrange things, how he's taken care of, Steve can't forget that he's big, and he's strong, and he could escape if he wanted to. He can't suspend himself, and he can't let go.

Which is where Natasha comes in.

* * *

Steve hisses as the needle sinks into the crook of his elbow. He's naked, lying back against Sam, who has his arms around Steve's waist.

"You're sure it's safe?" Sam asks, eyeing the bottles of liquid that Natasha left on the table.

"It's poison," she says, like she's telling them the time. "But he's Captain America. It evens out."

Steve nods, twisting his head back to kiss the corner of Sam's mouth. "This is good," he says. "And my safe word is 'commando.'"

Sam nods, making eye contact with Natasha. "Mine is Lincoln," he tells her.

Natasha doesn't ask about that, doesn't say a damn thing about where Steve and Sam met, and what monuments they were near. Instead she slips back off the bed, pulling her shirt over her head smoothly. "Opal," she says.

Sam and Steve had been shy about inviting her to stay, to have some fun of her own as a thank you for helping them out. But she had seen the anticipation in Steve's eyes, and heard how earnest they were-- this wasn’t pity, or obligation. They want her here, and she has to admit that it’s an attractive offer. And when Sam had admitted to touching himself to the mental image of Natasha riding Steve, she was sold. Sam gently strokes Steve's cheek as they watch Natasha disrobe, their eyes hot on her as she drops her clothes on the floor in a heap.

"Wow," Steve smiles, and Natasha can already see him relaxing, his muscles going slack as the seconds tick forward.

"You wanna kiss her?" Sam asks, and Steve nods eagerly.

Natasha smiles, crawling lithe and predatory across the bed towards them. She glances at Steve, but leans across him, opting instead to kiss Sam, slow and dirty, the press of her lips making his hips jerk against Steve's back.

Wet warmth, the hint of teeth, and Natasha makes noise of surprise, pulling back and glancing harshly at Steve.

"Your pretty little thing decided to suck on my tit," she tells Sam, who has a twinkle in his eye.

"You said I could kiss," Steve says, his lips curled into a smile. 

Sam shakes his head. "He's a brat," he tells Natasha, not glancing at the pliant mountain of man in his arms. "He has to be managed. Mouthy and pushy."

"But pretty," Natasha says, sliding her hand over Steve's neck, taking his pulse as she claims his body. 

Steve grins at her words, his eyes gone glassy.

"He likes to please," Sam tells her, though she knew that a long time ago. "So, what do you want him to do for you?"

Natasha considers that for a moment before a feral, wicked grin spreads across her face. "I think he owes you a thank you," she says. "And those lips were made for sucking cock, weren't they?"

"He's damn good at it," Sam says, petting Steve's cheek. "What d'ya say, Sunshine? Wanna get going?"

Steve hums happily, turning in Sam's arms. He seems slow, sluggish, his legs trembling coltishly as he pushes himself up onto his knees. Natasha smiles at the effort, moving to rest her hand on the small of his back. 

"Go slow," she says, stroking his skin gently. "Your body is gonna be getting weaker. You're gonna lose control, and it's gonna be a little scary."

Sam reaches out to rest his fingers on top of Natasha's. "But we got him, yeah? We're here, and we're gonna take such good care of our boy."

"Ours?" Natasha asks, but the question is swept away when Steve smiles, looking up at Sam through his eyelashes before glancing back at Natasha. The heat of the glance spikes something in her, something protective, something feral and almost angry. She shifts, running her hand down over Steve's hip to press firmly against his stomach, to help support him as he turns back to the task in front of him. 

They stay, suspended for a moment, Natasha kneeling behind Steve and Sam sprawled in front of him. The seconds hang, a kind of odd tableau, before Steve makes another soft noise and drops his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the head of Sam's cock.

"Nice," Sam breathes, slipping his fingers into Steve's hair. "Be good," he says. "Be good for me, yeah?"

There's no response, just the sound of lips pressed to skin, the sound of Steve lavishing affection on his lover. He's thorough, Natasha has to give him that. He takes his time with slow licks and sweet kisses covering every bit of Sam's dick until it stands shiny with spit.

"Suck it," Natasha breathes, curling her hand so her fingernails press into Steve's abs, to spur him forward. "Let me see how you make him happy."

Steve whimpers, his legs trembling harder as he moves to obey, his head dropping fast over the length of Sam's cock. He bobs deeper and deeper, pulling sharp noises of pleasure out of Sam, who is stroking Steve's face, grunting and sweating as his body is worked over.

Natasha is in awe of how fast it is, how quickly Steve can move with the drug in his system, and it’s only a few minutes her concentration is shattered by Sam's voice.

"You-- fuck," Sam pants, pulling Steve's hair to slow him down, to control the pace better. "You know what Sunshine here is great at?" he asks, meeting Natasha's eyes again.

"What?"

Sam doesn't answer, just reaches forward for Natasha hand. She moves a little, letting him pull her forward so he can press her hand against Steve's throat. Sam thrusts gently and Steve makes a soft noise. Natasha feels Steve swallow, his throat muscles spasming around Sam.

"You in his throat?" she asks.

"Yeah," Sam sighs, easing off. "He's so good at it. Never backs down from a challenge. Such a good boy, my Steve."

"He is," Natasha agrees, and then nods slightly. "Should we try tying him up? See how long he can behave?"

Sam nods his agreement and Natasha thinks that Steve tries to chime in, too, but he's lost too much of his control, and can barely nod as Sam pulls out of his mouth and his knees give out, leaving him prone on the bed.

"Gorgeous," Natasha says, running her hand along the length of Steve's body, cupping his ass gently.

Sam nods and moves, gently flipping Steve so he can lie on his back, looking up at them.

"Gimme a color, huh?" he breathes, his touch tender on Steve's chest.

Steve blinks. "Green," he whispers, his voice far away and floating.

"He's good," Sam says, as if Natasha wouldn't understand. "Green means go."

She nods at him. "What do you tie him with? Usually?"

"Scarves," Sam says, gesturing to the bedside table and a jumble of blue fabric. Natasha smiles at their softness, the delicacy of the fabric as she runs them through her fingers before handing them to Sam.

"Was he like this before?" Sam asks, looping the first one around Steve's wrist.

"Before?" Natasha asks, watching his fingers move deftly over the silk.

"When you slept together before," Sam says, more matter-of-fact than Natasha expected, but still guarded, still feeling for something.

Natasha shakes her head. "No," she says, simply, touching Steve's leg . "I mean, he wasn't drugged, and it was kinda-- it was more about being alive, after getting out of the SSR bunker. It was-- we were in the back of a car." Natasha smiles at the memory. "Hell, he said after that he felt guilty, because he kept insisting that we were borrowing the damn thing. There wasn't a lot of time for scarves and poisons."

Steve makes a desperate noise, his fingers wrapping slowly around the scarf tethering him to the bed. 

"Remember that?" Natasha asks, palming his cock lightly. "Remember fucking me in Jersey?"

Another moan, one that sounds like assent. "Yeah," he breathes, his hips stuttering. "Was good."

Natasha nods, bending to kiss his stomach gently. "This is better, huh?"

"Better," Steve agrees, and she can tell he's trying to move, trying to arch into her, but his muscles are failing, his body giving out on him like he wanted.

"You know what I didn't get?" Natasha says, running a finger down Sam's arm gently, fixing him with a hot look as he ties Steve's other wrist.

Sam raises an eyebrow, testing the bond before moving to Steve's ankle. "What?"

"His mouth," she says. 

Sam clucks, disappointed. "That true, Sunshine?" he asks, giving Steve's knee a playful swat. "You get this pretty lady in bed and you didn't even go down on her?"

The nod is barely there, but Steve bobs his head once. "True," he says.

"Make it up to her," Sam says, tying the last knot to secure his lover to the bed. "Show her how much you appreciate her, and everything she's done for you."

Natasha laughs gently, squeezing Sam's shoulder as she moves up to position herself over Steve's face. His eyes are bright, blue like the scarves and blazing hot as he gazes up at her. She shifts, getting a knee on either side of his head. 

"Look at me," she says softly, cupping his cheek. He does, their gazes meeting. "You need to stop, you blink three times fast, yeah?"

Steve nods again, his neck barely moving.

Natasha taps his cheek lightly, just hard enough to get the message across. "Not playing," she says, sternly. "Show me."

His eyes flutter closed three times, giving her the signal she needs, and she sinks down to meet his mouth.

There have been countless men between Natasha's thighs before. Some have even survived the experience. But the feeling of Steve Rogers-- of _Captain America_ laid bare before her is intoxicating in a way she doesn't think she's felt before. It's powerful and it's heady, the rush and the pull. Even before his tongue darts out to flick her clit, even before he takes a long lick and moans gently, Natasha has to grab the headboard to get her balance, has to take a moment to come to terms with the situation.

"That's a pretty picture," Sam breathes, his lithe fingers tracing the curve of Natasha's spine. "You and him."

Natasha turns to look at him, letting go of the headboard with one hand to beckon him close so she can kiss him. "Thanks for sharing," she says, hotly, before glancing back to make sure Steve is okay. "Your boy is good at this," she gasps, her body jumping as Steve slips his tongue inside her and Natasha thrusts down onto his mouth. "Fuck," she breathes, moaning as Sam moves behind her, his hand coming around to tweak her nipple.

"You know," Sam breathes in her ear, nipping her earlobe gently. "I wanted you the first time I saw you. In that hot car. Looking for a fossil, right? And now you're fucking him. You're fucking him and I get to watch. Shit," Sam sighs, and Natasha can feel his cock, hard against her ass. "Never dreamed I'd get you both. How'd I get so lucky?"

Natasha moans, the words molten in her ear. She's not sure what it is-- the prone super soldier, the rather expert manipulation of her body, or the way Sam just seems so earnest and sweet, but of all the filth men have whispered, promised her in bed, his ode to watching is probably in the top five.

"Not luck," she gasps, her pace speeding up as Steve renews his efforts and Sam kisses her neck. "You take such good care of this little thing here, thought you deserved a nice show."

Steve groans at her words, and Natasha smirks down at him. "Little thing?" she asks. "You like knowing you're still small? Like knowing--fuck-- like knowing we have to take care of you? You gotta be protected, Steve. You need us. And you need this. Need to know it. Need to feel it."

He whines again, his teeth ghosting over her clit and Sam's hands are hot on her breasts and Natasha feels herself falling. She feels the release she's been chasing bloom through her body, and she exhales softly, slumping back against Sam, letting Steve rest for a moment, though he takes the time to make a show of licking his lips, his tongue a shocking pink as it darts out, chasing her taste.

"You're welcome," Steve slurs, looking satisfied with himself.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Welcome?" he asks, his arm snaking across Natasha's waist, holding her to him so she can drop her head back to rest in the crook of his neck.

A bratty grin sneaks up Steve's face, uneven and smug. "She came, didn't she?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow, turning to look at Sam, who shakes his head. "Kiss me," he says, bending to take her mouth, and she leans up, moaning openly. It's a game, she knows that. It's a show for Steve, but Sam is a good kisser, and a good guy, and she doesn't object to any of this. Her control is returning, her knees not quite as shaky as they were directly post-orgasm, so she turns, angling her body to slide off of Steve.

Sam follows her, slipping his fingers into her hair as his tongue meets hers. They're literally leaning across Steve, their bodies meeting above him, and the idea that he's powerless, that he has to watch and wait, is almost as good as Sam's gentle caress of her cheek.

"Hey, gorgeous," he says, pointedly ignoring Steve.

"Hey," she replies, blushing slightly at the desire in his eyes. He looks at her like she's precious, but he doesn't look at her like she's fragile, she decides. He sees her for the edges and the facets, like a diamond. Hard and jagged, but beautiful. He sees what she is, and not just the luster. She laughs, pressing her forehead against his. "What can I give you?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"You already--" he starts, but Natasha shakes her head.

"That's what I gave him. What can I give _you_?"

Silences hangs, and Natasha waits, lifting her hand to stroke the rough stubble on Sam's cheek. Finally, after a moment or two, Sam smiles at her.

"I was gonna ride that mouthy brat there," Sam says. "Show him what his dick is for. But it seems like he has ideas about what he deserves."

Steve snorts, his shoulders flexing slightly, and Natasha wonders for a short moment if the poison is wearing off, but the idea that follows is too good, too fun to let go of.

"You have any toys?" she asks, cocking her head. "Want me to fuck you with one? While your boy watches, and thinks about how it could've been him?"

Sam licks his lips and then nods, slipping off the bed towards the closet, where Natasha thinks they must keep their gear.

"You," she says, turning back to Steve. "You don't know how fucking lucky you are, you know that?"

He shakes his head. "How?" he croaks.

"You think anyone else would love you like he does?" she hisses. "You think anyone else would take such--- would keep you as safe? You think you deserve him?"

"No," Steve says, softly, and the pain on his face is fresh, it's open and raw, and Natasha regrets her words.

She leans in, kissing under his ear gently, before she speaks, her voice barely a whisper. "You do," she says. "And now you're gonna watch that man get fucked, and you're gonna think about all that he does, and that he does it because he wants to, because he loves you."

Steve shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut for a moment.

"Color," Natasha demands, feeling Sam sink onto the bed next to her. 

"Green," Steve says, his voice wavering.

Natasha nods and turns back to Sam, who's holding a slim vibrator with a slight crook in the end and a tube of lube. "Nice," she says, taking the wand and twisting the bottom so it hums to life briefly, before she turns it off and sets it aside. "You ever let him fuck you with this?"

"All the time, when he's good," Sam nods, smiling. 

"And when he's not?" 

Sam smiles and moves to untie Steve's legs. taking a moment to rub his ankles before manipulating Steve's upper body, pushing him so he leans against the headboard, sitting up with a view of the bed.

"Then I get creative," Sam says, and he grins at her before turning and assuming the position, his knees under him and his head resting on his crossed arms.

His ass is nice, Natasha thinks, much nicer than most. She runs a hand over the curve of it before giving it a weak slap to watch it move. "Hot," she breathes, picking up the tube of lube from where Sam left it. 

She slicks up her fingers and settles back on her heels, slipping one digit into Sam's plump ass. He sighs happily, and Steve sniffs, his shoulders twitching. 

"You starting to feel strong again?" Natasha asks Steve, turning to look at him as she rubs her right palm over Sam's ass, the finger of her left hand still working inside of him.

"Yeah," Steve breathes, pointedly not meeting her gaze. 

"Scale of 1-10?"

"'Bout a two," he says, and Natasha realizes he's avoiding her gaze not because he's embarrassed, but because he's mesmerized at the movement of her hand, at the place where she disappears into Sam. He's hard, she realizes, the kind of erection that just looks painful, like it might be torture rather than pleasure.

"You keep watching, sweet boy," she says, smiling. "And you tell me if you get to a five, and we'll think about taking you back down, yeah?"

Steve grunts his assent, his cock jumping as a bead of precome slides down its head and Sam sighs, fucking himself back onto her fingers.

"How you doing, Sammy?" she asks, the diminutive awkward on her tongue.

He moans softly, craning his neck around to look at her. "Sammy?" he asks, but his eyes are wide, his pupils blown and his voice is tight, so she doesn't think he minds too much.

"What?" she grins, twisting her finger slightly. "You wanna be called Falcon in bed?" 

Sam chuckles, laying his head down on his arms again. "More?" he asks, his hips jumping as she twists her wrist again.

Natasha goes slowly, removing her finger and adding more lube before sliding a second one in, slowly working Sam's body. He's different, she thinks, not like other men, but he's still a man, and she can still wring pleasure out of his body, still make him mewl and keen and beg. But somehow, she doesn't want to. Doesn't want to debase him the way she has with other men, doesn't feel the need to bring him to his knees.

"You know," she says, sliding closer to him, running her hand under him to wrap around his cock. "We've said a lot, about how good and pretty Steve is. But you're pretty good, yourself. And hot."

Sam makes a happy noise, which Steve echoes from his prone position. Natasha smiles.

"What good boys you are," she breathes, kissing the small of Sam's back. "How good you are for each other, how good you are for me, for the world. Two strong men, but so small, just men. And how good. How good, my boys."

The words surprise her, but she doesn't stop. "Thinking about you two," she whispers, though she can see Steve hanging on her words, can feel Sam speed up his need as he works his hips back against her. "Thinking about the way you fight for each other, for me. How you love the world. And it's done you both so wrong. You deserve so much more. But that's me," she smiles, kissing Sam's back again, sliding a third finger inside him as she strokes his cock gently. "I'm the way the world is gonna make it up to you, my good boys. Gonna take care, gonna make it better. Just for you."

"Please," Sam breathes, and she can hear the reserve in his voice, can feel him trying to hold back. She glances at Steve. whose cock still dripping beads of precome like her words have brought him to a new level of arousal.

She slips her fingers out of Sam, wiping them on the bedsheet before scooping up the wand and coating it with lube.

"Here it comes," she says, resting a hand on his flank, feeling him tense at the first press of the toy against his ass.

Natasha breathes a soft sigh, waiting for Sam to unclench, to let go. He does, after a moment, and she slides the head of the toy into him.

Steve whines, his hips jumping slightly.

"Patience," Natasha tells him. "I'm gonna take care of this man here, this man who takes such good care of you, and you can wait."

"Can't," Steve whimpers, and Natasha rolls her eyes at him.

"I don't care," she says, fixing him with her gaze. "You _will_."

Steve pouts, but it's undone by the way his body is flushed, the blush that creeps from his hairline down his chest, his skin glowing pink and his jaw slightly agape.

She turns her attention back to Sam, who is squirming, trying to get more of the toy inside him. Natasha twists the bottom slightly, starting the vibratior running gently and then just lets him move, lets him fuck himself on the thin plastic rod, waits for him to still as the first shock goes through him. 

"That the spot?" she asks when he does, and Sam nods desperately. "Take it," she says, returning her hand to his cock. "Take what you need."

To his credit, Sam does. He starts moving with wild abandon, his head craned back and his eyes screwed shut, his mouth open in pleasure. She lets him direct, thrusting back onto the wand and forward into her hand, every inch the power bottom she always thought he might be, pushy and aggressive and voracious.

It’s been a long time, Natasha has to admit, since she’s had this much fun during sex, this much fun playing with partners. "You look so hot," she tells Sam, watching him move. He's birdlike, she decides, the sharp jerks of his hips punctuated by the glide of his body, like he's flying. Her pet falcon, and how she'd like him on her wrist, hooded and waiting.

She lets the thought go as Sam shouts, his voice cracking as he shakes in her grip and comes, his whole body spasming against the toy and her hand. She lets go of his cock, lets him roll onto his side and curl in on himself, still occasionally rocked with sensation as she slowly turns the toy off and works it out of him.

"Doing okay?" she asks, leaning down to kiss his shoulder.

Sam nods gently, and Natasha gives in to her protective urge, wraps her arm around his abdomen and pulls his body flush to her. "You're so handsome," she whispers against the back of his neck, kissing the beads of sweat that have gathered there. "You give so much, you gave me so much. Thank you, Sam. Thank you."

He whimpers and turns in her grasp, resting his forehead against her neck. The angle is awkward, but Natasha doesn't say anything, just keeps making soothing noises and holding him until the shaking stops.

Finally, after a few minutes of Sam snuggling closer, his breath hot and wet on her neck, he looks up.

"Hey," he says. 

"Hi," Natasha replies, kissing him gently.

"Sunshine?" Sam asks, not looking away from Natasha's eyes. "Color and number."

Natasha remembers, suddenly, about the prone man tied to the bed above them, and she's not sure how she managed to forget.

"Green," Steve says, and his voice is stronger, but there's a new edge of desperation to it. "And a 3. Three and a half."

Sam's throat bobs as he swallows. "Can I watch you ride him?" he asks, touching Natasha's cheek. "I wanna see you let go."

"Yeah," Natasha nods, but she grins at him, and pulls away. "Kiss me, first," she says.

Sam moves in to press his lips to Natasha's, but she pulls back and beckons him to come with her. He does. Natasha ducks her head, licking a stripe up the bottom of Steve's cock, tracing the vein that stands out with the tip of her tongue.

Understanding blooms across Sam's orgasm-heavy face, and he shakes his head as a grin turns his mouth up. He mirrors her movement, settling on the other side of Steve before he fits his lips over the head of his cock, sucking gently for a moment before ghosting soft kisses down the shaft.

Natasha takes her moment to watch and then moves back in, kissing Sam around Steve's dick. Their tongues dance over the taut flesh even as they try to get at each other, the salty-sweet taste of Steve bringing a new kind of heat to Natasha's belly.

The noise that Steve makes is one that Natasha has never heard before, somewhere between a moan and a scream and a sob. It's a good sound, full of pleasure, but she can hear the overload working his nerves. She kisses Sam once more, curling her tongue around the girth of Steve's cock, and then sits up.

Sam doesn't stop quite as quickly, licking Steve's dick slowly and indulgently before he lets go, moving to sit at the head of the bed, his shoulder against Steve's.

For a moment they're all still again, exchanging glances. This time it's Natasha who moves, tossing her leg over Steve so she's straddling him again, up on her knees and poised to sink down onto him.

Her eyes meet Sam's, and he turns to whisper in Steve's ear. She can't hear what he says, but she can guess at the general theme, knows that it's instructions and rules. She waits, poised and ready, until Sam stops and meets her eyes, nodding once.

Natasha sinks, slowly. The slide of Steve's cock is heavenly. There's no other word for it, the way he feels inside of her. She tosses back her head, moaning.

"Sam," she whispers, reaching out to brace herself on Steve's chest. "Sam, he's-- fuck, your boy feels _good_."

Sam chuckles and turns to Steve. "You hear that?" he asks. "You're making our guest so happy, Sunshine."

Steve's eyes flutter closed as his hips roll upward, exhibiting control that the poison should have stolen, but Natasha's almost too far gone to notice or care.

"Feels-- Sam, she's a goddamn revelation," Steve breathes, his voice tight again. "Like-- like a fucking Titian, like _Profane Love_. Like—shit." He shakes his head. "Like that first breath, in the winter, shocking and cold and good. Alive. I feel alive."

His words run up Natasha's spine and she speeds her rhythm, huffing out harsh breaths as she sinks down, inhaling again when she rises up. He's alive for her, and she takes it, letting herself feel his voice and his body, giving in to the things they all want, the things they want from her and the things she wants to give. She's looking for something, and the only way she can find it is this, and she wants to drown in his words and never come up for air again.

Sam leans in, sucking one of Natasha's nipples into his mouth. All she can do is give him a jagged, broken sound. There's something here, she thinks, something between them that she can't name, and is almost afraid to think about, like it'll shatter under observation.

"Tell me," Steve whimpers, straining against the restraints. "Natasha, please. Tell me."

There aren't words at her disposal, not coherent ones. Natasha tilts her head back and makes an animal noise, something beyond her control. Sam gives her a hint of teeth and she arches back.

"Good," she gasps, her pace spurring into a frenzy. "Good for me, Steve. So good. Such a good boy. Sunshine." She whispers the last word, meeting his eyes. "You are. You're the fucking sun, fucking-- fuck, just sunshine on my skin and I wanna-- you make me feel like summer."

It's nonsense, but Sam nods, leaning in to kiss Steve's mouth before tracing a trail of kisses down his neck. "She's right," he breathes, and Natasha shivers again at the heat in his voice, letting her hand fall between her legs so she can touch herself as he talks, so she can pretend the words are for her. "So good, so sweet," Sam sighs. "So good for us, making us both feel so special to be with you. You know how lucky we are, how much we care? So much, baby, so much. I love you, yeah? Love you."

Steve makes a strangled noise, his body going taut and the wood of the headboard splintering as he comes, hot inside of her, his back bowed and his face open, almost pained.

The moment of vulnerability pushes Natasha forward, slumping onto his chest as her own orgasm crests. She kisses his neck gently, her mouth opening and closing in a series of silent cries as the pleasure washes over her.

She's vaguely aware of someone moving her, of strong hands on her body, laying her out and mopping her brow. A bottle of water is pressed to her lips and she drinks, but mostly Natasha spends the next few minutes floating in a haze, unaware of what's happening around her. It feels strange, she thinks, to be this relaxed, to let someone else be the vigilant one for a moment.

When the haze falls back, she's under a blanket with two men wrapped around her. Sam is cradling her gently, slotted in behind her, and Steve lies facing her, his broad chests like a wall to keep out the real world. They're kissing, she realizes, lazy caresses and languid presses of lips. It makes her feel safer, she decides, knowing that they're okay, that they're going to recover on their own, and she can give in to the exhaustion that's trying to buffet down her last mental barrier and claim her as its own.

"Thanks," she breathes, looking up to catch Steve's eye. "Thank you, for that."

Steve laughs and bends to kiss her gently, the brutal fucking and hot sex a thing of the past as he lavishes kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her forehead.

"You're welcome," he says, and Sam chuckles, pressing a kiss of his own to the back of her neck.

"Go to sleep, Angel," Sam whispers. "We'll take first watch."

Natasha doesn't say anything. She wasn't planning to stay, but the cradle of Sam's arms feels deceptively like home, and the rhythmic rise and fall of Steve's chest is soothing. She gives into the fatigue, letting her guard slip and trusting them to catch it.


End file.
